Eat Me, Drink Me
by Master Gaga
Summary: Upon hearing his soulmate is dying, Edward Cullen races not only to save the other boy, but also to meet him. Soon enough they are high school classmates, and Edward is winning a human Jasper Hale over. But Evergreen, Jasper's hometown, hides secrets that threaten not only his life, but Edward's as well. Can Edward save Jasper, or will time run out for both boys?
1. The Awakening

*****_First of all, thank you for clicking and wanting to read the story. _

_* Second, I don't own anything. Stephenie Meyer owns these characters._

_*Third; this is yaoi, homosexual romance. If you don't like it, please don't read it. _

_*Fourth: I gave the vampire mythology my own twists. Please roll with them. _

_Thank you._

* * *

**1**

**The Awakening**

**Edward's POV**

I wasn't home when Alice called, so my machine picked it up.

I'd been downtown, on the trail of a murderer. He'd been causing quite a fuss for a couple of weeks now, and I'd decided to take matters into my own hands. This killer was particularly vicious and different from others around. The current London murder scene was full of drug addicts who killed the elderly for money to buy whatever it was they craved. The killer I was after was no druggie.

Some said he was a young man who had come to London from the states to study medicine. Other versions said it was music. Only one thing was certain, and it was the one thing where both the gossipers and the press agreed: he preferred to murder child prostitutes. And while I didn't particularly pay attention when prostitutes were killed, I was paying attention this time. These weren't your ordinary women who'd chosen to do such things-these were little girls who were being forced to perform sexual acts on someone who would later end up killing them.

It was the most horrible thing I could think of, me, a vampire who thought he had seen everything and then some.

So that was the reason why on a warm Friday night, instead of being home reading my used and battered copy of _Between the Acts_, I was hunting down a murderer. I was jumping over rooftops in an infamous area, which rumors declared to be London's Prostitute Zone. A dark, cloudless sky was above me, and around me was an air that smelled only of decay and bodily fluids.

Suddenly, I heard something that made me stop. I'd been about to jump onto another rooftop when the thought slipped into my head. I hadn't even been searching for it-it had been that strong.

_How can he not have a 9-year old?_

Instantly, I knew this was my man. It was disgusting and horrific, but I knew it was him by the strength in his thought. I sent a wave of Power towards him, compelling him to leave the brothel, to forget about the girl and come to the alley next to the building, which was the perfect setting for what I was about to do.

I took the final step off the edge of the rooftop. I fell for a few seconds, and then I hit the ground, landing with the grace of a cat. My murderer showed up after a few seconds, and my vampiric senses picked up that the compulsion had nearly failed while he was making his way out of the building, a pimp following after him. He'd sent the pimp away, though, enthralled by the thought of what he might mind in the alley.

_Maybe there's a poor, orphaned girl…starving…_

That was his thought as he entered the alley. It brought an angry smile to my face; I would not regret doing this. I would not regret killing a murderer that had for weeks terrorized the streets of London, a murderer that had made countless parents have nightmares about their children being taken from them forever.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice as soft as possible, but loud enough for him to hear it. I was trying to be as alluring as I could. But it did the opposite.

"And who might you be?" He asked, stopping in his tracks. My voice-a male voice-had instantly put him off. It made something within me rise, an angry side that I often suppressed. _So it's little fucking girls you like, no?_

It was then that I knew it was going to take more than the small amount of Power I had used to draw him to me. I was going to need more than some compulsion. I frowned, wondering what I could do.

And then it hit me.

I had to become a little girl. I had to become exactly what he wanted.

So I did. I focused a lot of Power around myself, turning my image into what he desired to see most: a little girl. I had no idea what type I became; I just knew that it worked, because after a few minutes of standing in silence, he walked towards me, his steps full of eagerness.

Once he stood before me, I took in his features. Even thought it was dark my vampiric sight allowed me to see everything. He wasn't old. He was quite young, in fact. I wouldn't be surprised if he was nineteen. His face was pale, his eyes a clear shade of blue. His hair was dark.

He spent a few seconds watching me, and he thought: _I wonder if she'll call me daddy?_

"My daddy is dead, mister. Would you like to be my daddy? I need somebody to take care of me. I need a daddy." I don't know where those words came from. They sounded like something straight out of a bad, hugely pedophiliac porno. But it worked; instantly the monster opened his arms, a smile blossoming across his face. It sent shivers up my spine.

"Come to papa, child."

I lunged for his throat.

* * *

After I drank him dry I headed home. I didn't bother throwing his body away, burning it or hiding it. I wanted someone to find him. I wanted him to become national news. That was probably was motivated him; the thrill of getting caught. It made sense in a morbid way that he would get his wish-only dead.

The walk home was long, but I didn't bother using vampire speed. I wanted to feel every step of the way. These days, using my vampire abilities gave me no pleasure unless I was hunting. It had been so for several decades now; the only pleasure I knew came when I killed. How funny. Of the many pleasures a vampire could feel, I could only gain gratification from the darkest.

I got home after a full hour of walking. I wasn't tired. I didn't feel anything like a human would. But as I walked up the stairs to my apartment, I wondered if there was something wrong with me, aside from the obvious flaws. I wondered if there was a reason why even after the kill I felt so tense; like something was coming after me and I couldn't stop it.

As soon as I stepped into my apartment I heard the machine beeping. I had installed it weeks ago in case anyone from my 'family' tried to make contact with me while I wasn't home, and it seemed they finally had. Only they had my phone number.

I pressed the button that would allow me to hear the recording. I wondered which family member it would be. Carlisle? Esme? To my surprise, it was neither of them.

"_Hello, Edward, this is Alice. I know we haven't talked in decades and that you chose to live on your own, doing the things you do…but we need to talk. Like, right now. I'm in London. I flew in a couple of days ago. I'll be waiting for you downtown, in a small restaurant called Sweet Nothings. Charming, isn't it? Um, well, please show up. I'll be waiting until twelve. Then I have to go. Bella is waiting for me."_

Bella was Alice's soulmate and a vampire, too; one that had been turned by my 'father', Carlisle. Alice thought of herself incapable of turning a human into a vampire, because she'd give into the frenzy that began once we started feeding.

But that was not what I was thinking about. At least, not primarily. I was thinking about the worry and fear in Alice's voice. They had been evident in the recording. They had come through loud and clear. Internally, I debated if I would go or not.

It wasn't that I had any problem with seeing Alice…not at all. It was the fact that I wasn't like my dear sister. While she and my family abstained from drinking human blood (they thought of themselves as vegetarian vampires) I didn't. I had followed their diet for a while, until I realized it wasn't truly me. And while I didn't allow myself to feed off innocent humans, there was nothing that could stop me from going after the evil ones, wasn't there?

My sister, while understanding of my point of view and quite tolerant of the choice I had made, didn't support it. She would rather I put up with their diet. She would rather I became the perfect vampire son to Carlisle, something I knew deep in my frozen heart of hearts that I could never be. I craved human blood too much. I lived for it, in a way.

While all this told me I should avoid seeing Alice and hearing any of her lectures, I decided on meeting up with her. I had nothing to lose, and if she got annoying, I would simply run off. I would disappear, and she would have to go back to her soulmate.

That settled it, then. I was going to see my sister. I looked at the digital clock that hung on a dull, white wall: 10: 51. I still had time to change my clothes and prepare myself mentally for the conversation. I set off for my bedroom, wondering what I would wear.

* * *

I felt Alice's distinctive presence as I stepped into the restaurant. I had walked to it from my apartment, wanting to kill time. I'd found it quickly, much to my despair. I arrived exactly at 11:00. Alice had one hour to tell me what she wanted.

The place was quite charming, as Alice had mentioned in her voicemail. It was a burger joint styled after the disco era, with disco music softly playing in the background. I found Alice in a booth in the back, all alone and with a menu in her hands.

"What's the point in checking out what you can't eat?" I asked her as I settled into the booth. She lowered the menu and golden eyes were quickly analyzing every little detail about me.

"Gosh, look at you, Edward. Your eyes are red as hell."

"If you came down here to make theological remarks about the color of my eyes, Alice, my exit is five minutes away." I threatened, and her eyes softened.

"I'm sorry. I just…I hoped you'd been secretly sticking to Carlisle's diet." Alice admitted, and finally dropped the silly menu. I noticed it had roller-skates on it. As I had thought earlier, charming.

"I have not, Alice. I thought someone with your gifts would have known." I replied. Alice was one of the "gifted" vampires, as they called it in our community. My sister could see the future, but it depended on the course people were on. Were I to change my ways, her vision of my future would abruptly change.

She groaned.

"I know, I know. I saw what you did a few hours ago-and I'm glad you did it," she admitted, but I could feel an undercurrent of disapproval coming from her. "That piece of scum didn't deserve to live."

"I find myself unable to disagree."

She studied me for a while, and then she gave me a tentative smile. I smiled back. I knew what she was thinking, of course-that was both my gift and my curse. Even though I could block out humans, I couldn't block out fellow vampires.

My sister was desperately hoping she could change me back to her puritan ways, but she was also hiding something. Something told me that was the reason why she was here-that secret that I couldn't decode.

"Anyways, tell me what it is you needed to tell me, Alice. It sounded urgent." I pushed. Her mouth pressed into a tight line. _Oh, this is bad_, a part of me thought darkly. I cast it away.

Alice took a deep breath and then shook her head.

"Edward, the reason why I'm here is because I have found your soulmate."

I had _not_ been expecting that.

Of all the things I had been expecting Alice to say, the last was that. I found myself remembering something from a long time ago, back when Alice, Carlisle, Esme and I were a perfect family. It was around the time Alice had announced that she'd found her soulmate in a human female called Bella. My family had been ecstatic; not all vampires found their soulmates. Some of them died before the vampire could find them. At other times vampires simply didn't seek out love.

But Alice, knowing I was a romantic at heart, told me that she'd always keep an eye out both physically and psychically from my soulmate. I'd given up on finding my soulmate years ago, believing myself doomed to spend eternity alone.

But now Alice…

"Are you alright, Edward?" Alice asked me, and I looked up from the table to find myself lost in golden eyes full of concern. The idiocy of her question nearly made me laugh. It was obvious that I was alright. Vampires were never in a position to not be alright. We were strong beyond belief. But I knew what my sister was asking. She was asking me not physically, but emotionally. I gave her a weak nod to let her know I was alright. Was I, really? I had no idea.

"Yes," I said finally. "I am alright. Tell me about my soulmate. Please."

Alice smiled and placed a hand upon mine. It was equally as cold as my own, but the gesture was touching. It had been quite a long time since I'd had any contact with anyone, let alone felt any support.

"His name is Jasper Hale. He lives in Evergreen, Texas, and he is a high school student. I was thinking that you could use your looks as an advantage, Edward."

"He's a boy? How interesting. And what a lovely name; Jasper," then something caught my attention. "What do you mean to my advantage?"

Then Alice did something that truly frightened me. She moved a bit in her seat, as if she were bracing herself for something horrible to happen. Vampires didn't need to do this-it was a leftover human reflect. Instantly, I did the same. I wanted to be prepared. I tensed every muscle in my body. I pressed my teeth together.

"Jasper is dying, Edward. He is sick. I was thinking that…if you are going to seek him out, and if you are going to create a bond…then you must turn him. You must give him The Dark Gift." Alice said quickly, and her speed startled me. A human would've caught only a couple of words, but I wasn't human. And I heard everything my sister said.

It took only seconds for me to think everything through. This was what I'd been waiting for. This was why I'd been feeling so alone and found pleasure only in the kill.

It was because the only thing that could bring me pleasure, happiness and joy was alive and utterly out of my grasp.

But that was not the case. Not anymore.

"How fast can I be in Evergreen? How fast can I enroll in his high school? Can you buy me a plane ticket?"

"Soon, soon, and yes, Edward. I can do that. Relax. You'll find him. You'll save him."

Alice tried to comfort me, but it did no good. I'd only just found out about the existence of my soulmate and I already wanted to be by his side. I already wanted to save him from death-I wanted to make him an immortal.

But then, I had a horrifying thought.

_What if I'm too late?_


	2. Down The Rabbit Hole

**2**

**Down The Rabbit Hole**

**Jasper's POV**

Knowing you're going to die makes you become more dedicated to your artistry.

That was my thought as I stepped back from the canvas, admiring the painting I had just finished. First I searched for any imperfections. This was the third time I tried to make this painting, and if it failed I would be more than angry. I'd be downright pissed off at my artistic abilities. Luckily for me, the painting had finally come out the way I wanted it to. The flowers looked delicate yet dark, and the centerpiece held no flaw.

I'd created an ode to the self portrait; I'd painted myself as a corpse inside its coffin, surrounded by thousands of white flowers. It was both grotesque and magical, one of the darkest things I had ever painted. With a smile on my lips I leaned closer, grabbed a marker from the floor and added a miniature version of my signature at the bottom corner of the canvas.

It was done. Painting number one was done.

When I'd first found out I was about to die-that my mother's illness had passed onto me-I became depressed. Everything seemed to have lost its meaning. Things that brought me happiness no longer could. Friends who'd been there for me through thick and thin seemed to no longer understand me. I couldn't blame them, though. They were not the ones going to die.

But I was. I, seventeen year old Jasper Hale Whitlock, was going to die young. It seemed rather poetic, in a way. My favorite artist was Frida Kahlo, a woman who died of health complications. Her paintings had lived on through history, though. Pieces of her remained alive because of her art.

It was then that the idea of making five meaningful, gorgeous paintings was sort of born. I ignored my doctor as he diagnosed the terminal illness. I ignored my father as he pleaded I went into treatment. He knew what I would chose from the moment the doctor had named my illness (a name I refused to even think about) as the one that had killed my mother.

My mother, Virginia Whitlock, had chosen to live her life as normally as possible. She didn't want me, her infant son back then, to see her decay slowly thanks to the medicines she would have to take. Instead, she chose not to combat the illness. She allowed it to follow its natural course until she passed away. My mother was found in her bed, her eyes closed and a smile on her face. Both my father and I liked to think that she had gone peacefully.

My sister Rosalie, however, thought otherwise. As the elder child and smart enough to what was going, she decided that my mother had made the wrong choice. She thought my mother had been vain, which was pretty grand, since my sister was as vain as it got. What did losing her hair matter? Why did the fact that her skin would become dry and withered matter? Rosalie didn't care as long as she had her mother.

Which she no longer did and blamed me for.

Well, maybe I was being too hard on her. Maybe she didn't truly blame me for our mother's death, but she did one hell of a job making me believe she did. She went as far as to say that mom had died because I hadn't wanted an ugly mom one Christmas (my petition to Santa had been my mother back, you see) morning.

But back to the point: I had chosen to follow in my mother's footsteps. I would not take any medication. I would die naturally. One day, when my system could take no more, I would simply collapse. I would pass away like everybody else.

It was because I didn't know how much time I had to live that I decided to make five paintings. Each of them would represent something important, something grand and that meant lots to me in life. Today I had painted the first in the collection: _A Death Amidst Roses,_ as I had chosen to call it. This opened a new chapter; a countdown.

Silently, I prayed for enough time to get inspired and finish my paintings.

* * *

The following morning I woke up with a massive headache, as it was expected. My fingers and face were covered with paint, which made me run to the bathroom and take a shower before getting dressed and heading to school. I was fast; I only covered myself with soap, washed it off and did what I needed to in order to rid myself of the paint covering my body. Once I was clean and dressed, I headed downstairs. I went to the kitchen expecting it to be empty, but Rosalie was there, having a bowl of cereal. She looked as radiant as ever, that sister of mine.

Listen…when I said my sister looked radiant, I meant it. My sister had pale, flawless skin to die for. Her eyes were clear blue and her hair a mass of blonde curls that had everybody in school going crazy. I was a pathetic imitation of her looks without the radiance.

I grabbed milk and cereal from the refrigerator and poured them into a bowl. I sat across from Rosalie, hoping she wouldn't mind my company. There had been a time in our childhood were Rosalie and I couldn't stand to be apart. If she went to camp so did I, if her friends went to the mall I tagged along, always the weird little brother who her friends teased but she defended, because she wanted him there.

That time came to an abrupt end when our mother died. It was as if it died and was buried with her, to be honest. Rosalie suddenly turned bitter and shallow and simply concentrated on the material. I secretly hoped that being that way was her way of coping; that she dealt with the pain by giving off a superficial bitch vibe when the truth was completely different. I hoped.

"Hello, Rose." I said as I ate. She looked up from her plate, gave me a nod, and then continued eating. I did the same, realizing Rosalie was going through one of _those_ days. Today Rosalie despised me. She accepted I was alive but pretended I wasn't.

Oh, it was fun to be me.

Once I was at school, I headed for the cafeteria. It didn't matter that I'd already had my breakfast-that wasn't what I was after. I made my way through what seemed like endless halls (Evergreen High was practically a maze), and when I finally I reached the cafeteria; I gave a sigh of relief. I only had twenty minutes to get to Peter and Charlotte-twenty minutes to find out which homework I hadn't done the night before.

After realizing I was going to die and deciding to focus on leaving a legacy, homework had lost its importance. It wasn't school altogether-just homework. As soon as I got home from school I dedicated myself to becoming inspired and sketching and painting; those were the things I truly cared about. Most of the time I spent all night working, so I rarely did my homework.

I found Peter and Charlotte in the back of the cafeteria, arguing over who would sit next to bitchy Marjorie in trigonometry.

"I won't sit next to her, Char. You know she's very…hands on." Peter said as I sat across from him and next to Charlotte. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and kicked Peter under the table, my way of letting him know I'd missed him. He rewarded me with a curse and a smile.

"Well done, Jas. Peter here is afraid to sit with bitchy Marjorie in trig because, apparently, she likes to touch him too much," Charlotte said, and Peter groaned. It seemed he didn't understand you couldn't fight with Charlotte. She was the type of girl who won every argument. Short hair, brown eyes and pale skin were her fierce exterior.

Peter threw a notebook at me, and I opened it.

"History?" I asked, looking at him.

"We had homework. Five questions, if I remember correctly." Charlotte informed me. Peter nodded. I didn't waste any time; I pulled my history notebook from my beat up messenger's bag and copied the questions as fast I could.

"Oh, Jas, I'm going to ask my mom if you can show your paintings at her studio. I began introducing her to the idea of new artists and she was rather enthusiastic about it." Charlotte said casually, and I nearly stopped writing. Nearly.

"Really? That's great! Thank you so much, Char." I said, and pulled my friend into a hug once I'd gotten over the shock. My paintings would be seen by people. They'd get the attention they deserved. This was a dream come true for me. It meant I wasn't dying in vain.

"When are you going to let us see what you paint, Jas? We know you can paint from what we did on art class last year, but we've never seen a personal painting of yours." Peter observed. I found myself staring into his cheerful brown eyes (and they were always that way, no matter what the circumstance), wondering what I'd say. It took me all but a few seconds to come up with an answer.

"I don't have anything good to show you. I've only begun painting a new collection now, and I don't want to share it just yet."

"Why not?" whined Charlotte, and I laughed.

"My paintings are morbid, guys. I don't want you to see just how depressed I am," I joked, and they laughed. Before more comments could be made the bell rang, and I groaned.

"And so the torture begins." I whispered as we got up from our table. Peter heard me and gave me a small smile. Well, at least I had people who would listen to me bitch and moan. Not everyone had that, I reminded myself.

I headed to my first class, which was PE. None of my friends took it with me, which made it a whole lot shittier. I hated PE with a fiery passion; I thought it was a waste of my time. I could be painting, but no, they wanted me _running_ and playing _dodge ball_ and doing all sorts of shitty active things.

But it seemed that the Gods had decided to share a little light with me that day, because as soon as I entered the gym, the teacher told me the principal (he just didn't want to say my father, did he?) had asked for me to be sent to the office quickly. I left my book bag on the floor and headed there.

So, yes. My father was in fact the principal of my high school. It didn't make me cool or anything. In fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Instead of fearing me, bullies adored to threaten me due to my crappy status in the school hierarchy (which I didn't believe in).

Once I got to the administration office, I didn't bother saying hello to Stephenie the secretary for any reason in particular. I just didn't. She knew that at this hour I was bitchy, and as I marched into my father's private quarters, she gave me a pitiful look. I shrugged it off and went on.

My father's office was a small thing. Four walls, one desk and a chair in front of said desk. Once I was inside I notice somebody sat in said chair, and silently wondered who it could be.

My father stopped the conversation he'd been having with person and looked up at me.

"You called for me, principal?" I taunted. I knew how much my father hated to be called that. He nodded and waved at the person in front of me.

"This is Edward Cullen, son. He's a transfer student from London. He's in your group and I thought there wouldn't be anybody better than you to show him around." Father said, a smile on his face, and I thought I'd caught the slightest hint of pride in his voice.

"Of course."

It was then that Edward decided to whirl around in the chair. He extended his hand towards me, but nothing could've prepared me for what the glorious sight before me was.

Edward Cullen was fucking beautiful. It was that simple. His hair was a lovely shade of red, his skin as pale as a sheet and his eyes were as green as leaves in spring. His features were perfectly sculpted, much like the statues in ancient Greece.

I pushed my amazement away, not wanting to seem creepy. I took his hand and shook it.

"I'm Jasper Hale. As the principal already said, I'm in your group, so I'll do as he has required. Ok?" I asked, and Edward nodded. He gave me a shy smile, and to my surprise, I found myself smiling back.

"Sure. Which class are we supposed to be in right now?" Edward asked. Again, I was amazed. His voice was clear and smooth, and it sent a thrill down my spine. _Control yourself, Jasper_! I thought to myself, mortified. This wasn't the time to be acting like a schoolgirl.

"PE. You'll love it. C'mon, let me lead the way."

It turns out Edward was good at PE. He was good in all of our other classes, too. When I introduced him to Peter and Charlotte they instantly welcomed him into our table of losers. It seemed they were thrilled to have a new addition to our small group of friends.

"So, how are you finding Evergreen High, Edward?" Peter asked him, ever the most polite one out of us. I smiled.

"I like it so far," Edward said, and I could swear he paused and looked directly at me, his gorgeous green eyes once more sending a thrill down my spine. "It seems to be very lovely."

"Oh, I love your British accent! I hope our classmate's didn't give you a hard time for it. They can be assholes." Charlotte said, and Edward laughed. It was a strangely musical sound that was riveting and captivating.

"They didn't. It seems like having Jasper around was a good luck charm. I didn't get into any sort of trouble, and all of my classes have been painfully easy." Edward told Charlotte, and I snorted.

"All except trig, you mean. Today was brutal for me." I admitted the last part, and Peter laughed.

"Jasper has a problem with trigonometry. In fact, he has problems with numbers in general." Peter said, and I nearly slapped him right there. It sounded like I was some sort of stupid child.

I rolled my eyes and took a zip from the chocolate milk I had chosen while picking out my food. Edward hadn't gotten anything, strangely, even though I had offered to pay for his meal. He had refused and had told me he didn't eat much.

I looked up to discover green eyes staring at me. For a while, I said nothing. They were hypnotic and held me in some sort of strange trance. Then my brain broke free.

"What?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"Well, if you found our trigonometry lesson so hard, would you like me to help you out? I'm good with numbers." The last part was clearly a joke, and we all laughed, though I felt a bit angry that it was a joke made at my expense.

"That'd be great, actually," I found myself saying. "But not tonight, sorry. I have some things I need to do. Tomorrow night, perhaps?"

He nodded, and I silently wondered why someone would transfer from London to the hellhole that was Evergreen.

* * *

**Edward's POV**

Seeing Jasper had been worth the wait.

All through my preparation (Alice helped me catch up with the modern lingo and modern things altogether the week before I was allowed to attend to Evergreen High) I'd been sure of why I was joining society again. I was going to meet my soulmate. I was going to save him from death. Nothing else mattered but him.

Still, I hadn't expected the experience to be as overwhelming as it had been. I had to use a bit of compulsion on him so that he didn't notice that my green eyes were contact lenses, and that alone had nearly killed me. I didn't want to use any sort of vampiric trick on Jasper (or anyone else, for that matter) until I had to turn him-until I had to give him The Dark Gift.

And oh, I could smell it. The scent of impending death nearly overpowered the appeal of his blood. It was there as an undercurrent, not extremely powerful but still there. Jasper seemed happy and buoyant and full of life-something I admired deeply.

I was going to save him. It didn't matter if he didn't want to be a vampire; I would turn him against his will if needed. If he hated me afterwards, I wouldn't hold it against him. I would set him free and allow him to live the life he couldn't as a mortal.

I pushed away all my thoughts quickly, preparing. I'd gotten dressed and was leaving my apartment, ready to fulfill the dark necessity that came along with vampirism. I was going hunting, which would be significantly harder in such a small town.

Oh, well. I was prepared for the consequences.


End file.
